Sunday, May 1, 2016

Five o’clock AM and I once more find myself without the
ability to get the requisite forty winks one needs or desires on a daily basis.
It has been the norm since I have taken up residence in this apartment
building. New to town I found myself in need of an abode that would not drain
my less than generous bank account. I had turned in my papers after twenty
years as a cop in a major city before relocating to another major city far away
from the city I had developed a genuine dislike for. The pension was only half
my salary and it barely paid the bills. I drove a cab a few days a week in
order to afford booze and food. The flat was really a rented room and the
apartment building was really a sleazebag hotel. There was a blinking sign outside
the window reminiscent of an old time Dashiell Hammett story, and the denizens
of said hostel would fit well in any Sam Spade, or Mike Hammer yarn. It was
depressing and I knew it. The blinking light had a buzz to it that drilled into
my ears and nearly drove me mad.

Most nights I would simply drink myself to sleep but, for
some reason, the whiskey wasn’t working. I tried watching television and spent
an hour trying to decipher the story from a Telenovela on the Spanish station.
Pushups proved useless, and reading a book might have worked if I had one. I
called the Goth chic down the hall who supplemented her income from managing the
Adult book/video store around the corner by performing carnal acts of,
depending on one’s proclivities, either mercy or atrocity for the older
gentlemen of the building such as me. After an hour and a half of vigorous
gyro-acrobatic shenanigans, she left my room out of breath and properly
remunerated. I lay there unable to move…and still wide awake.

Surrendering to my situation I got dressed and went out for
some breakfast. There was an all-night diner across the street where the local
cops would stop for coffee and food. It made me feel comfortable to be around
some guys on the job and I would eat at least one or two meals a week there. I
had no desire to engage any of them or “talk shop.” I just found the atmosphere
familiar. There were a few there when I walked in and took my regular seat in
the corner where I could see everything. I was content to just drink coffee (it
wasn’t like it was going to prevent me from sleeping) and read the newspaper I
had bought from the machine outside on the curb.

A couple of the guys who drove for the same cab company came
in and told me that the dispatcher said that he was short a couple of drivers
that day and for them to put the word out. I finished my coffee and went to the
garage and picked up a unit. I figured I might as well make a few extra shekels
during my unwanted bout of insomnia. The fares started coming in on the radio
and it turned into quite a busy shift. About six that evening I called in to take
myself out of service. Fourteen hours was enough and I was beginning to feel
tired enough to sleep. The dispatcher told me to get one more fare from a hotel
and call it a night. As it worked out, I probably should have turned it down
and gone to bed.

She walked out of the hotel as if she were exiting a royal
palace where she was the lead noble lady. Her attire was a throwback to the
same 1930’s noir detective genre that my rented room had going for it. She was
tall with perfect makeup and a form fitting dress reaching to just below the
knees. She wore gloves and a hat. The bonnet was a plush contraption with
feathers lining her upper face and a fish net screen covering her face. The gloves
were silk and full length. Bright red lipstick offset a pair of piercing dark
eyes. She kept a small pout on her face most of the time but when she smiled
there were the most alluringly sexy dimples on each side of her mouth. She
looked out at the world with hooded eyes accentuating eyeliner and shadow that
made my mouth water.

She had a deep voice for a woman and it wasn’t until much
later that I noticed the Adam’s apple underneath her chin. Her figure was pure
woman and hourglass in demeanor. She wore heels that were at least four inches
and silk stockings with seams up the back of what must have been exquisitely gorgeous
legs. Overall she must have been at least 6’5”. If I had to choose one word to
describe her it had to be…glorious!

She handed me a card with an address on it. I, being new to
town, simply thought it was a high end cocktail club. It did not occur to me to
question the hook under the name of the club. That all-purpose catchy phrase
all high end joints used which would entice customers and keep them curious
enough to frequent the establishment. “For those of discriminating taste” was
what this one stated. Sort of a sublime hint that the place had something only
the most discerning of clientele could possibly appreciate. Only the extremely
erudite might need apply.

Imagine my surprise when I dropped her off and discovered that
it was just a bar for drag queens and their unsuspecting dates.

I never, at first, pegged her for a lady (?) of the evening.
She had manners, you see, and I always thought of her as a lady. Perhaps a
little old fashioned based on her “accoutrement” as she called it. She told me
her name was ÉtiennetteÉmile. It was her father’s name in
French she proclaimed proudly. Her surname was also French. She always would
use little phrases in that language and then translate them for me. I found it
adorable.

Even after I discovered that it was a drag queen bar I never
put one and one together to figure out that Étiennette was really just French
for Stephen and that he dressed up to pick up “Johns” at that bar to pay
his/her bills. I later discovered that Émile was also a translation. This time
for his/her mother, Emily and that his/her last name was Fleming. Possibly
French but Stephen was never sure. In his/her defense I got told a story of a
confused kid who always preferred men for romance and felt out of place all the
time.

It seemed as if I should have known. After all I spent
twenty years as a cop, seventeen of them as a detective. There was something
about her. I never really thought of the fact that “he” was a man, or should
have been from a biological point of view. Whenever we were together it was
always Étiennette. It was always a given that I held the door open for “her.” It
was always a given that I held the chair for “her” at a restaurant. And it was
always a given that I was in the company of astonishingly beautiful woman.

I am for sure not and have never been gay. I like woman both
carnally and personally. I have no discriminatory preferences in female
companionship. I like them all, again, carnally and personally. But there was something
about Étiennette that just cried for me to be around her. It was like a moth to
a flame. Like, as a child, when you were being told not to stick your hand in a
light socket. You just had to do it. I just wanted to be in her presence.

It all began with rides in the taxi. She lived in an old
Brownstone house on an upscale street. I would take her on shopping jaunts here
and there and noticed liking the conversation in between stops. She shopped every
day for new outfits and I was on the receiving end of the marvelous visions she
would create for her evening time. I started working seven days a week just so
that I might be around to pick her up. She never called when she was with a
“gentleman friend” as she called it. She always had her companions call a different
cab company. She called one day and requested that I be her personal driver.
After a while we agreed that it would be better if we were not confined by the
rules of the cab company. She asked me to come to work for her as a driver. She
would and could give me a decent wage and I could have my pick of cars to
choose from. I told her that it should be something stylish and grand. She gave
me a number of pages downloaded from the internet and told me to choose.

They were all from the thirties and forties and all
retrofitted to be legal and trustworthy. We picked a 1937 Cadillac Fleetwood
Town Sedan with a stunning black paint job and chrome accessories. I never knew
how much it went for, but Étiennette never blinked an eye at price. My days
became much more relaxed and enjoyable. I bought a black suit with a chauffeurs
cap. We travelled all over town and dined in fancy restaurants. It made the
retired cop in me curious to wonder how much she made with her “gentlemen
friends” and what she had to do for it. I never considered sex with her, given
the anatomical realities, and she never mentioned it. I took to kissing her
hand when I dropped her off at night. She would greet me at the door in the
morning with an air kiss to my cheek. We were as happy as if either of us had
good sense.

I began to meet with the Goth chick down the hall (her name,
it turned out to be, was Midnight) more often. Our shenanigans became much less
energetic, meaning that I was able to move afterward, and after a while she
stopped taking the money I left on the bedside table for her. She told me that bumping
uglies with me was good exercise. It finally began to feel as if retirement was
not going to be all that bad.

And then Étiennette got sick.

Well, that was what Étiennette called it. She called and
told me to take a few days off until her doctor released her from bedrest. I
offered to come and take care of her but she refused. She explained that her
miniature collie was all the company she could handle and that the day nurse
would provide everything else. I had violets (her favorite) delivered to her
house every day. She stayed in for almost a week and when I did get to pick her
up she came out walking with a cane. It was a standard hospital issued cane. I
immediately drove to a nearby antique shop and bought her something much more
elegant. When she climbed into the car I noticed that she wore much more makeup
than usual. The type of makeup I used to see battered women wear to hide the
results of an argument with the abuser in their life. I ask her why she was
moving so slow and she just said that she had not completely gotten her breath
back. She just wanted to get a civilized meal and come back home. I knew what
was going on but figured that if she wanted me to know she would tell me.

We had never discussed that fact that I was a retired cop.
She thought I had been a civil servant in some city office somewhere like
Building Inspection or the Water Department. I never really discussed being a
cop with anyone but Midnight and only her because she figured it out on her
own. I wasn’t ashamed of it in any way, but it had left me with memories and a
decent case of insomnia. Putting it in the past was my goal. One I would never
achieve.

It took about another week for the makeup to go back to
normal and the cane to disappear. Another week after that for the shopping
trips to resume. Another two weeks and I was dropping her off at the club. I
imagined that she was resuming the commerce that was paying my salary.
Commerce, as I called it, did not begin again but came to a screeching halt.

I was watching a game show I had recorded with Midnight when
I received a call from Étiennette about 2:00 in the morning. She was crying and
asked me to pick her up at the Emergency Room of a nearby hospital. I brought
Midnight with me for moral support. A wise choice, I discovered, once I got
there.

Étiennette came out of the patient section into the waiting
room being helped by a nurse. Her makeup had been wash away. She had a large
bandage across her nose. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut, she wore a neck
brace, and her jaw was wired shut. A doctor trailed her and the nurse imploring
her to let them give her a room. She shook her head, as much as possible while
groaning and reaching for me when she was close enough to recognize me. She had
a strap on cast on the hand she reached for me and her other was in a similarly
wrapped and restrained by a sling. Her left foot was in a walking cast. Her
every movement elicited a groan of pain. When I got close to her she threw her
movable arm around me and began to cry again. I held her and eased her into a
chair in the waiting room. We sat there for a long time and when we pulled away
from each other I told her that she was staying…no argument.

Midnight had spoken with the doctor and came and gave me a
report on all of Étiennette’s injuries. She walked away and came back with a
wheelchair. She crouched down and, with a handful of tissues, wiped the tears
away from Étiennette’s damaged eyes and shushed and loved on her. I sat there
with her head on my shoulder and felt the first warmth of a seething grow.
Someone did this to my Étiennette and they were going to pay.

Later that morning, after seeing to it that she had a
private room and was well taken care of, I left on the pretense of getting some
things for her to wear while she was in the hospital I went down to the nearest
police station and got the paperwork started for a Private Investigators
license and a concealed carry license. My record prior to my retirement
elicited two responses. First, the precinct captain tried to talk me into
joining their force, and second he expedited both requests for immediate
acceptance. I had what some would consider large amount of decorations and
medals over the years and was consequently considered a hero cop. My thoughts
were simple; I shot some guys and they pinned medals on my chest for it. The
medals never prevented the nightmares. Étiennette did that…almost from the day
we met.

A stop at a gun shop, a full figure lingerie shop, and a
florist for a bouquet of violets were all on the agenda before returning to the
hospital. She was asleep, as was Midnight in the recliner next to her bed. I
shook Midnight awake and told her I would take over. She shrugged and told me
to find another chair. She was not going anywhere. I followed my “exercise”
partner’s direction and we both waited while Étiennette slept off the medicine
she had been given.

She woke up and began to cry again. I held her as best I
could taking into account the rails of the hospital bed and the IV’s and tubes
running in and out of her. She stayed distraught for the next couple of days
and Midnight and I started to take shifts. The healing came slow but was
steady. Physical therapy came in everyday and after a week she began moving
around a little better. I refreshed the violets often and her spirits began to
lift. I thought long and hard before I said anything, but it was time.

I began by telling her about why I had become a cop. My
mother had been mugged and in the course of it she suffered a stroke and we had
to take care of her for the rest of her life. She never recovered and died many
years younger than she should have. I told her about finding the guy that did
it and sending him to prison…with a permanent limp and no vision in his left
eye.

I told her that I had been a real tough cop and had been
awarded many medals. I told her about how I felt about the medals and I told
her about the nightmares and insomnia. Then I told her that meeting and loving
her had made the dreams and sleeplessness fade away. I told her that I was
going to find the guy who did this to her and he was going to go to prison for
what he did.

Her eyes teared up and she just sat there saying nothing. We
sat for a long time before she told me that I would not have to go find the guy
who did it to her. Well, actually, I would not have look too hard. It was her
brother. It was her twin brother.

He lived right next door to her. Her parents had bought them
matching houses just like they did with clothes when they were kids. They grew
up different, though. They had not been identical; they were fraternal twins
and did not look very much alike. At least not as close as twins should look.
She had grown tall and stout. He had been at least a foot shorter than her and wasn’t
as healthy. She grew up and liked men. He grew up and liked girls. The problem
came when it came time for them to notice others from a romantic point of view,
she became Étiennette, and he just became a nerd who could not get a date while
holding a calendar. He was shy while Étiennette was outgoing. Even as a boy Étiennette
was beautiful. He, on the other hand, was slight of nature with an acne scarred
face that only a mother would love. Women and men alike all were drawn to Étiennette
while anyone he even looked at all rejected him. She tried to set him up but
nothing ever worked. She had a dozen dates for the Prom (boys and girls both)
and he stayed at home watching the television with their parents.

He finally met someone who did not think he was repulsive
and they began dating. She was a lovely girl and pretty as a picture. They fell
deeply in love, or so he thought. They got married and Étiennette thought it
was “Happily Ever After” time. After their parents passed away and they moved
into the Brownstones her brother’s wife began coming over and talking to Étiennette
about all kind of “Girly” things. Not really a problem at first. Until, that
is, one unfortunate day that her sister-in-law tried to kiss her.

Étiennette had never even hinted at any attraction. She was
decidedly preferential of men and all her family and friends knew that. She
pushed her away and told her to never do that again. She was not mad, but she
was family and that was unacceptable. The sister-in-law threw her hands in her
face and ran out crying. When she got home she ran to her bedroom and locked
herself in. When she came out she told her husband that Étiennette had tried to
have sex with her. That was the first time she got “Sick.”

Her brother came over and beat her with a wooden spoon from
the kitchen. This was before she had started calling him for cab rides. When
they had progressed to the Cadillac her sister-in-law had taken another woman
as a lover and was hiding it from her brother. When he discovered the lesbian
girlfriend he blamed Étiennette and came over and beat her with a miniature
baseball bat he had been given as a cruel joke one birthday. That was the next
“sick.”

There had been no more trouble until the brother came home
and found his wife hanging from one of the balconies in the Brownstone. She had
broken up with yet another woman and could not take it anymore. The suicide
note she left stated that it had always been Étiennette she had wanted and that
the other girls were just substitutes. If she could not be with her true love
she did not want to live. Her brother watched Étiennette her leave the house
and followed her to the drag bar. He had hired a guy to pick her up and make
like they were going to a hotel. He, in disguise, had even held the door to the
cab that was supposed to take them. When she got in she found that the driver
was actually her brother. He came at her with a lead pipe and pushed her out at
the hospital.

I listened to her tell me about her brother. She had no
animosity towards him he was the only family she had and she loved him. Even
though he hurt her terribly she was quick to forgive. I was not of the same
inclination. I know how I used to take care of these situations. Mostly it
meant that the perpetrator received at least as good as they gave, male or
female alike. Then, they all went to prison for a long time. I never cared what
I had to do or say to ensure they went to prison. None of them resisted taking
the time. I made sure they knew what was in store for them if I found them
walking the street too soon.

I never really deserved the medals and commendations. I was
a monster cop…until I met Étiennette.

She knew what I had in mind and she did everything in her
power to stop it. She made me sit and listen to all her stories about her
brother and how he got to be the way he was. She told of bullies and the cruel
things they did. She talked about how the girls all shunned him and how the
teachers in school would make him sit in the back of the class because he was
ugly. He could not see well and had too much pride to tell their parents he
needed glasses. He thought that eyeglasses would make it worse; perhaps
creating another insult that might be hurled at him. Étiennette always loved
him and would protect him as much as she could. It did not help. Imagine the
shame he felt to have his gay, crossdressing, brother defending you. Étiennette
had never accepted bullying for being gay and was of sufficient statue to
physically stop any kind of discrimination. Most everyone thought it was a
novelty to have a huge drag queen around who could kick your ass. Her brother
just thought it was just one more thing people could hold against him.

He walked around ashamed of himself until he met his wife.
When she hung herself he stopped being ashamed and began blaming Étiennette for
everything wrong in his life.

I listened to her explain that it really was not his fault.
I decided that it might just be that this time I would not include the beating
before seeing that he go to prison. I told Étiennette that I would not hurt him
but that he would have to go to jail. She wept for a while but I convinced her
that he was not going to stop until he killed her for revenge. She shook her
head and told me to be gentle. She asked Midnight to go with me to make sure I
did not lose my temper.

I decided to do it “by the book” as they say. I went to the
see the captain who had expedited my PI license and carry permit. I told him
the story and what I wanted done. He got a search warrant and a crew of cops to
go and arrest the brother. He let me and Midnight tag along. Nobody answered
the door when we got their and he ordered the breach team to gain entry to the
Brownstone. What came next was for sure not the result I ever intended.

Hanging from the same landing as his dead wife was the
brother with a suicide note attached to the lapel of his suit coat.

The note was an apology. Apology for what he did to Étiennette.
There was a lengthy apology for the death of his wife where he really held no
liability, culpability, or responsibility. He wrote an even more extensive
apology to his parents for not living up to what he should have as their son.
He took credit for every bad thing that ever happened to him. He concluded by asking
for forgiveness for not hanging himself sooner.

I sat there on the stairs reading the letter and found myself
stunned. Until that moment I had never bothered to look at a perp as human.
Never considered any of them might possibly be just a human being worthy
of…well…compassion…or…mercy.

I left the scene and went to the hospital. I told Étiennette
what happened and held her while she grieved for he brother. I stayed until she
fell asleep. I sat in the hospital and wondered when I lost the monster cop
gig. I no longer seemed to have the anger, apathy, aggressive thought, or
animosity that had made me what everyone thought of as a great cop. I felt
something foreign and I could not figure what it was. I could not figure when
it happened either. I sat there and thought for a long time, finally falling
asleep in the chair. When I woke up Étiennette was staring at me and smiling.
She was beginning to lose the bruises and the adorable lines on either side of
her smile had reappeared. Those dimples that made me want to look at her
beautiful face forever. It was at that moment that I realized when the change
had taken place. It happened the first time I kissed her hand and looked up at
that wondrous smile.

I remember thinking that maybe I had it right in my head
finally. How justice worked, that is. I pulled out my cell phone and called the
captain and asked if he thought he could find a place for me.

But just in the evenings. My days would be full taking Étiennette
shopping.